Deep Desire: The Deep Series, Book 1 (14 page)

Gio tossed Adin’s phone to Santos, who crushed it in one hand and jerked his head toward the door. Gio hauled Adin to his feet and towed him back to the tiny, airless room he’d waited in before.

Adin lay on the bed, contemplating the grim possibility that he had six or fewer hours to live.

Adin’s watch, the Rolex he peered at now in the darkness while he awaited his fate, was still set to Frankfurt time. Adin lit the small reading lamp by his bed. His father’s cracked watch read 11:15, and Adin knew, just as he had known at nine, that Donte would never come.

He rolled over, sorry now that he hadn’t taken Elian up on his offer. Physical comfort would be a welcome distraction. He went to the barred window and looked out on the landscaped yard. Exquisitely pruned hedges and walkways lit with mushroom-shaped lights led to two large spotlighted trees. The parklike setting had furniture scattered about, benches for sitting and reading and enjoying the garden’s beauty, which were probably lost on the undead, who couldn’t enjoy them much in the light of day.

A scraping sound came from outside the door. The lock turned. Elian stepped hesitantly inside. “Soon they’re going to want you to come downstairs,” he said. “They sent me to tell you, in case you were sleeping.”

“Not much chance of that, though, was there?”

“Probably not,” Elian agreed. “I—”

“Look—” They spoke at the same time.

“You first,” said Adin.

Elian didn’t lift his gaze from the floor. “I wanted to help you, but it’s impossible.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t!” Elian hissed. He leaned forward, speaking in hushed tones. “I wouldn’t even care if they knew it was me, if they staked me for it. I just… It’s impossible. I hope Donte comes for you, because I can’t help you.”

“Thank you.” Adin took Elian’s hand. “Would you sit with me? I’d like your company.”

“You would?” The boy was hesitant but pleased.

“Sure. No one wants to be alone when they’re scared.” They sat side by side on the bed like nervous middle-schoolers.

“Unless your only choice is a bloodsucking predator.” Elian smiled.

Adin leaned against Elian’s large, young body and put his head on the boy’s broad shoulder.

“My options lately have been severely limited.”

“You trust too easily.” Elian pulled him into a tight hug. “I won’t hurt you, but you should know that you’re easy.”

“It has been said.”

“You have a less-than-zero chance of getting out of this alive,” said Elian pragmatically. “Want me to suck you off?”

“Nah.” Adin laughed. He couldn’t take the very young-looking Elian up on his offer. But he put his arms around Elian’s waist. “This is fine. It’s nice, just like this.”

Chapter Fourteen

At midnight, Gio came to the door. He glared at Elian with some distaste, but simply motioned them to follow him. When they were down the stairs and on the landing, Adin’s heart began to pound. He felt sick to his stomach and his hands started shaking so he reached for Elian, but the boy pulled away and stared mutely ahead, saying nothing.

Adin let him go. He couldn’t blame him. Elian was looking forward to immortality with these men, and Adin likely only had to endure a few more minutes.

“Donte didn’t come,” Adin said when he at last faced Santos. It wasn’t a question.

“No, he did not.” Santos toyed with a lethal-looking letter opener.

“He only loved when he was human, Santos. The only person he ever cared about was your father. I never expected he would come.”
Was that true?

Maybe not.
Maybe Adin had held out hope Donte would save him. Maybe Adin’s sour stomach and aching head were the result of disappointment and not merely dread.

Santos nodded to Gio, and Adin sucked in a sharp breath. He heard fragments of sound. Mocking laughter and jeering, like people at a cockfight. Hissing. Voices speaking so low that he couldn’t understand them, but still rumbled into his mind like waves breaking on sand. He looked around the room, and in the men’s smug faces, he recognized the arctic light of cruelty. Like the start of a gay bashing where no one will make eye contact because mob mentality has taken over.

Adin prepared to defend himself, but even now hopelessness echoed in the empty spaces of his heart.

The telephone rang. Gio came around the desk to collect Adin as Santos picked up the receiver. Gio grabbed his arm, but Santos held his hand up. Silence fell over the room.

Santos turned the phone on speaker.

“Did you hear me, Santos? I asked if you had killed my toy yet.”

“No,” Santos said through clenched teeth. “He’s still here.”

“May I speak to him?” Donte gave nothing away, Adin thought, because he had nothing to give.

“That would be up to him. He can hear you.”

Adin closed his eyes against tears.

“Caro, are you disappointed?” Donte asked.

“To be disappointed one has to have expectations, so I would have to say, no, I’m not disappointed.” Adin opened his eyes. He focused on the phone, as if he could see through it, to Donte. As if he could see Donte himself

“Your heart reproaches me, if your words do not.”

Adin clenched his fists. “
Say it isn’t so, Joe
.”

Donte didn’t speak for an eternity. “Another lesson from baseball? Innocence is always defiled in some way, Adin. Some would say that’s its purpose. I’m sorry, più amato.”

“You don’t get to call me that.” Adin hardened his heart against the bitter pain of those words, not so very long ago spoken in passion. “Not even if only the living qualify. You do
not
get
to call me that!”

“Fair enough.” Donte sighed. All Adin heard was his own harsh breathing, but there was a palpable escalation of the tension in the room. A thrumming excitement he could feel through his skin.

“Do you remember when I asked you about ghosts, Donte? When I asked if they walked among us?” Adin was afraid his voice would crack, that the sound would shatter into a million pieces as his heart had elected to do.

“Yes, caro, I remember.”

“I would have liked to walk some more with you.” Adin cried openly. He no longer cared if anyone thought him weak or lacking in pride. There was a faint
click
on the line, and it made a sound like the inside of a shell before Santos hit the
Disconnect
button. All eyes were on Adin, and they were hungry. Adin shot one last look at Elian, who acknowledged him briefly and turned away.

Just as suddenly they were on him, pulling him harshly and tearing at his clothing. Adin saw that Elian and Santos stayed well back as the three other vampire henchmen began to drag him from the room. He writhed, twisting and bucking as they caught each of his limbs in turn, and still he fought, practically convulsing in their hands, straining against the inevitable outcome of a single mortal’s struggle with three hungry monsters. He saw Elian then, out of the corner of his eye, racing forward, whether to help him or subdue him he didn’t know. Someone used a brutal elbow to knock all the air out of his lungs.

Adin lost control; he thrashed and spit and hissed on wild instinct alone. Gio wrenched his arm hard, and from the blinding explosion of pain, he knew his shoulder had dislocated. They were almost to the doorway of the office, and that became his new goal. He would not go through that door—no matter what—alive. His eyes closed and his body kept fighting.

The sound of breaking glass preceded a blinding light that tore through the room like a firebomb.

Even though Adin had his eyes closed, when he opened them again all he saw were huge purple clouds. He squinted and tried to peer through them, but it was no use. The hands holding him let go, dropping him onto the hardwood floor beneath him. All around him he heard running feet, the sounds of fighting—a harshly barked word or command from Santos breaking the silence at odd intervals.

Someone kicked him hard in the head as they ran past, and he flung up his uninjured arm to protect himself as the fight raged on above him. Something fell with a wet
thud
about three feet away, and he looked to find Gio’s sightless eyes staring back from his severed head. Adin couldn’t look away. In only a matter of moments, it dissolved into gritty nothingness. Adin’s eyes rolled back in his head.

Mist coated Adin like a white sauce; the damp and chilly air reminded him of walking across the Golden Gate Bridge in the morning before the fog burned off. It was eerily quiet, though, unlike the city, where he would have heard at least a few seabirds and the drone of a foghorn at intervals.

The silence in his head was crushing and unnatural until a sound broke it.

“Più amato.”
Adin heard Donte’s thick, mellifluous voice.

“Donte?” he answered. “Are you here? Did you come after all?”

“No,”
said Donte patiently.
“I didn’t come.”

“Oh. Aren’t you a shit, then?” Adin tried to ascertain how he was feeling, but everything was fuzzy. “Thanks.”

“You assume I care nothing for you if I did not ride to the rescue like a cowboy in an American movie?”

“They were going to kill me.”

“Death is only a door, Adin. One of many, many…”

“
My
death is
my
door. Piss off,” snapped Adin. “And get the fuck out of my head.”

Donte made an irritated sound.
“Adin, I cannot engage my lover’s child. Surely you see that? Surely you see that I must do everything in my power to avoid conflict with him?”

“You should have thought about that before you made him what he is.”

Donte growled.
“I made him what he is because I could not bear to see him die. That was a foolish and sentimental mistake, and I have regretted it for almost five centuries. You will not see me make it again. Not even…”

“What?” Adin asked, his breath catching in his throat. “Donte, what?
Not even what?
”

“Adin?” A new voice pushed Donte’s away. “Adin, can you hear me?”

Adin opened his eyes. Warm, inky black eyes looked at him from above.

“Tuan?” Adin assumed he was dead or dreaming. “What the
hell
?”

Tuan grinned. He took Adin’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “You’re going to be all right. EMS is on its way.”

“What are
you
doing here?”

“I’m doing my job. Undead management. They only get to stay in the USA if they play nice.” Tuan stood. He was all in black, wearing fatigue-style pants and a long-sleeved shirt with a utility vest over it. He wore a watch cap that hid his glossy hair, and was at that moment placing a razor-sharp sword into the scabbard that hung at his hip. Adin had trouble taking in the sight of him.

“Play nice?” Adin rolled to his knees, his arm hanging limply by his side, and Tuan assisted him gently to his feet. “What happened to Santos?”

“He slipped away during the fight.” Tuan looked away. There was probably more to the story than Tuan was willing to tell.

Relief flooded Adin with surprise. How the hell had that happened?

Adin knew the answer. Donte didn’t want Santos harmed because he’d loved Santos’s father. And in some way, Adin was glad that both would live to fight another day. But from his own, very selfish point of view it would be better for everyone concerned if Santos had been turned into a gritty pile of debris.

“And the young one? Elian?” asked Adin. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he had to ask anyway.

“Gone,” Tuan said. “Dust.”

Adin felt a pang of real regret.

“Adin, someone will take you outside for medical help. We have work to do in here.”

“All right.” Adin didn’t ask what they had to do. If it went beyond the cleanup and removal of evidence that vampires existed, Adin didn’t want to know. “Does everyone know about this? Does Edward?”

“Not everyone, no. Edward knows. That’s how we met.” Tuan shrugged.

Adin was dazed. His best friend had been keeping a secret of that magnitude from him? That
hurt
.

One of Tuan’s men took Adin gently by his uninjured arm and helped him outside. There was an ambulance waiting there, and Adin allowed himself to be treated. Adin’s shoulder was the most painful of his problems, but as soon as they had him lying on the gurney, they started an IV and took precautions for shock. Adin had to admit shock was a pretty likely scenario when he started to shake as though he would fly apart.

Just before they loaded him into the ambulance, Tuan loomed over him. “I’ve already called Edward. He’ll phone your sister in L.A. and meet you at the hospital.”

Adin grimaced as he was jostled. “Tuan, did Donte Fedeltà contact you? Did he send you?”

“Who?”

“Donte Fedeltà.” Adin tried again. “Tuan, tell me if he sent you. I need to know.”

Something uneasy flickered in Tuan’s eyes. “We’ve been following Santos for years. Customs violations. Entering and leaving the country illegally. I had a hunch he was dealing in stolen art. No one was more surprised than I was that he picked you up at the airport. We thought he already had your stolen manuscript. It’s a good thing you’re safe. Edward would have killed me.”

Chapter Fifteen

When Adin awoke, hazy, late-afternoon sunshine filtered through plastic mini-blinds. His first thought when he looked around was that he’d have to reexamine the Kabuki as an adequate hotel, but then he remembered everything that he’d been through the previous day, and he closed his eyes again, sighing. He heard movement next to him and felt a delicate touch on his hand.

“Hey.” Edward’s usually mischievous eyes showed only concern.

“Hey.” Adin tried a smile and failed.

“I guess you had a little adventure with the bite club. Welcome to my world. Isn’t Tuan just the hottest?”

“I…yeah. Thanks loads for keeping that a secret.”

“You wouldn’t have believed me.” Edward sighed. “Tuan says you should take up kendo. Once you know they’re there, and once one’s marked you…”

“No one’s marked me.”

“Yes, someone definitely has marked you. It’s important that—”

“Edward, nothing’s changed. The battle’s over. Life goes on. Santos thought he could use me to get to Donte. He found out now that he can’t. End of story. I was
fast
food.”

Edward sizzled with indignation. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. And you need to listen, at least keep an open mind. Everything has changed for you. Talk to Tuan.”

“All right.” Adin sighed. “All right, I’ll talk to Tuan, but I think you’re overreacting. Did you call Deana?”

“Yes, and she thinks you were mugged. So does the hospital staff.”

“When can I leave?”

“Deana wants you to come back to L.A., and unofficially, I’m supposed to see to it that you aren’t released until you agree to do that.”

“I see.” Adin pushed the button to raise his bed.

“She promised me cosmeceuticals.”

“You are such a slut.”

“Gotta keep the eye candy sweet.” He grinned. “You’ve seen my man in action. Think I’d jeopardize that with crow’s feet?”

“That man will love you when you’re a hundred, even if you look it.”

“Your lips to…” Edward pointed up. “Look.” He picked up his messenger bag and got out his keys. “I’ve got to get you something to wear, and maybe some decent grub, and then I’ll come back and see if we can’t spring you. You can stay at our place tonight, and then you can make arrangements to go back to L.A. in the morning. Did I mention how glad I am that you’re okay?”

“You can mention it again.”

Edward came over to the bed and kissed Adin almost reverently on the forehead. “So glad.” He sighed. “Best friends, yeah?”

“You know it,” said Adin. “Get me something that makes me look hot.”

Edward smiled and sailed out the door.

Later that evening, Adin was watching with particular interest the way light from the television illuminated the dust motes that probably shouldn’t have been floating in hospital air, when the door opened again and Santos walked in, followed by Boaz.

“
Shit!
” Adin muttered, trying to sit up, to prepare himself to fight. Boaz’s hand came down gently on his chest.

“Relax, Adin,” Boaz said. “It’s all right.”

Adin didn’t waste time listening to him but struggled to get away.

“Adin,” commanded Santos in the compelling voice Donte sometimes used.

“That doesn’t work on me, Santos,” said Adin through gritted teeth. Boaz pushed him down harder. He was hopelessly trapped. He would have to clamber over the metal bed railings and run past the two men to get to the door anyway.

“Well?” He reserved his frostiest expression for Boaz, who seemed to have changed sides. Boaz stared right back at Adin as he sagged back onto the pillow.

Santos broke the silence. “Don’t thrash, Adin. I came to say good-bye.”

“Thank you. Don’t bother lingering over that.”

“What is it with Fedelta and Spicy food.” Santos popped Adin gently on the forehead with his index finger before adjusting Adin’s sheets, completely creeping him out in the process. “It was never personal with you. I just wanted you to know that.

“I told you Donte cared nothing for me. You could have let me go.”

“Ah.” Santos seemed to consider this. “I rarely confide in anyone, Adin. You should know this is almost a first. So pay attention. I like you.”

“Oh, holy crap—”

“I said
pay attention
. First, I am sorry you were almost eaten. That sort of thing is a regrettable fact of life when you are required to keep up appearances with
underlings
. In truth, I’m quite relieved you remain unharmed.”

“I’ll bet.” Adin grumbled.

“Second, I am certain Donte Fedeltà cares about you, and that this was a most difficult thing for him. But he is, above all, a man who will not allow himself to be ruled by his passions. A good general, if you will, willing to sacrifice a soldier to win a war.”

“Okay, will someone just unenlist me? Because I couldn’t care less, except I want my manuscript back.” Adin slapped Santos’s hand away when he realized it was stroking his hair like a pet’s.

“Now that Fedeltà has it, it will never be returned to you.”

“Have you seen it?” Adin asked.

“No.” Santos closed his eyes. “I don’t wish to. My father’s shame isn’t something I would wish to—”

“You should see it,” Adin insisted. “You should. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s an abomination.”

“He talks about you,” Adin whispered. “And your father. And how your father loved you.”

Santos’s eyes widened. “You read this?”

“I did.” Adin paused. “Whatever you think of Donte Fedeltà, he loved your father. He treasured him. He cherished every moment they had, and he lives in those memories five hundred years after the fact. Renata deliberately killed your father and then had him ‘turned’ to separate them for all eternity out of spite. He suffers.”

“My father suffered. He was never given last rites.”

“Knowing what you know now, having lived five hundred years…do you think that’s the worst thing that could have happened to him?”

“You know nothing.”

“
You
can know everything,” Adin offered. “I can give you the manuscript. Read it for yourself.”

“How?” Santos’s interest was piqued, although Adin could tell he hated himself for it. “Fedeltà has the manuscript.”

“Boaz?” Adin turned to the smaller man. “If you can find out what they did with my trousers, there’s a flash drive in the pocket. I photographed the manuscript. The file is on that memory stick.”

Boaz rummaged through a plastic shopping bag with the hospital logo on it that he found hanging over a doorknob. He returned to Adin’s side with a slim, red plastic jump drive in his hand.

“This is it?” he asked.

“If it still works.” Adin took it from him. He looked to Santos. “Somebody broke my laptop.”

“I returned your memory device,” Santos pointed out. Adin sighed.

“I will give you this on two conditions.” Adin held the thumb drive in his closed fist.

“You really are a piece of work.” Santos shook his head. “They are?”

“One, that you send me a copy of the file, and two, that you read it with an open mind.”

Santos regarded him closely. “Why would you do this? I almost had you killed.”

“
For Donte.
” As he met Santos’s gaze without flinching, brown eyes seemed to peer into Adin’s soul.

Santos held his hand out, and Adin dropped his flash drive into it. “I will do as you ask. However, five hundred years of enmity…”

“I understand.”

“Actually, I believe you do. That must be what Donte sees in you.”

Adin made
tch
noise. “Donte sees nothing.”

“Don’t be a fool, Adin. For a man like Donte, ordinary rules of human behavior do not apply. Don’t imagine your moral code can withstand the pressure of a life lived almost half a millennium. I make no excuses for him. I can see that he had a difficult decision to make, and I actually rather admired his choice.”

“You would. You weren’t about to be eaten.”

“Technically, you weren’t either. You would probably have been…played with and turned.” At this, Santos walked to the doorway. “Recycling, you know? When you finish with your drink, you redeem the container. Very PC. Very green.” He grinned, and Adin felt a chill wash through him. “Coming, Boaz?”

“A minute, please.” Boaz waited for Santos leave.

“Get the hell out of here, Boaz.”

“I did say there were more things—”

“You lied to me. You said you were working for Donte.”

“I was.” Boaz shrugged.

“What are you? Some kind of double agent for the mortally impaired?”

“I’m complicated,” snapped Boaz. “I took care of you for Donte, and now I’m taking care of Santos for Donte. Santos knows my loyalties lie with Fedeltà. He finds it convenient to keep me around for now.”

“I’m going to be glad to get home and forget any of this ever happened.”

“Yes, well. Good luck with
that
. I wanted to say good-bye.”

Adin thought he looked sincere and perhaps a little younger than he’d first appeared. “All right then. Good-bye.”

“Good luck, Adin.”

“Good luck to you too.” Adin held out his hand and they shook.

“Awkward.” Boaz strode to the door.

“See if you can get Santos to send my copy of
Notturno
back.”

“I will. Or I’ll copy the files and send them. I’ll think of something.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Boaz grinned and gripped the door handle. “See you around.”

The rejoinder “not if I see you first” came to Adin’s lips, but he didn’t say it.

When the door closed behind Boaz, Adin relaxed. A man in scrubs entered the room with a phlebotomy tray and pulled down the guardrail. He had a kind face and an unnatural enthusiasm for his work.

“I’ll just need to get some of your blood,” he chirped, catching Adin’s good arm by the elbow and thumping the veins.

“Just take a fucking number.” Adin’s laughter seemed too loud for a hospital. He tried to stop, but by then he was crying so hard he could barely catch his breath.